Rejected by My Alpha

I am Emory Howell, Crown Luna of the American Lycans, heiress to the Moonveil Pack. I have walked into rooms that made Alpha males instinctively lower their eyes. I have settled inter-pack disputes with a single sentence. My Luna aura is the kind that other she-wolves whisper about in reverent, slightly envious tones. And tonight, I was standing in the Silverfang Pack's kitchen at six in the morning, covered in flour, asking an Omega named Bess whether dark chocolate ganache needed to chill for one hour or two. 'Two, Miss Howell,' Bess said quietly, not quite meeting my eyes. She knew who I was. They all did. But I had suppressed my aura so thoroughly over the past months that I barely registered as anything more than a well-dressed visitor in their territory. That was intentional.

My legs felt weak. My vision blured. I whisper, "Please, forgive me my Lord, I will go....." "No," he growled, his voice low but firm "You won't." He took a step closer to me and I feel the pull from his wolf to mine. something magnetic, ancient and terrifying. It's not just attraction. It's instinct, a bond older than time itself. He stared down at me as I knelt on the floor, too terrified I glanced back toward the entrance , toward the open gates that had promised freedom just moments ago, far from freedom I knew what lay ahead for me, death, public execution of the half-blood who dared to speak before Alpha Zane, I expected to hear him say it, Kill her, but instead. "Get up".

When I found out that Leon, the Alpha of the Silver Fang Pack, had left me unconscious in the hospital just to deliver a coat to his Beta, Yasmin, I decided it was time to reject our mate bond. Leon agreed immediately, his voice dripping with the casual arrogance of an Alpha. "Why worry? She’s just an Omega. She’ll calm down." "Give her a few days, and she’ll come crawling back, begging for forgiveness. Then I’ll graciously accept her apology, and we’ll see if she dares to cause any fuss again." That very day, he posted a photo on the pack’s shared mind link, holding hands with Yasmin across a dinner table. The caption read: "Two souls, three meals, four seasons; for the rest of our lives, we’ll be each other’s one and only." As I stared at the date on the calendar, I dialed my brother Julius, the Gamma of the Blood Moon Pack. "Hey, can you help me get back home?" "Really? That’s great! You’re finally giving up on that jerk!

One hundred years ago, the witches cursed every she-wolf to be barren. It was vengeance for their slain matriarch. It was meant to end the war. Instead, it nearly ended the werewolf race. Werewolves were forced to interbreed with humans to survive, and the once-proud kingdoms fractured. Only one bloodline remained untouched by the curse, the ancient Lycans of Lupenreich, protected by powerful shamanic magic. Coveted by werewolves, hunted by witches, despised by vampires, the Lycans became both salvation and threat. And now, only one true heir remains... Sybil von Rosen was never meant to grow up among humans. Born a Lycan princess through a human surrogate, she was stolen from the castle as an infant by the very woman meant to nurse her, a woman who turned out to be a witch. Hidden beneath a powerful spell that caged her wolf and erased her scent from the supernatural world, Sybil was raised knowing exactly who she was... and exactly what she had been bred for. A womb. A crown. Her bloodline's legacy. But Sybil was never meant to be a broodmare queen. She grew up human with the strength and senses of a shewolf and the magic of the witches, which got transferred to her while she was still in the womb of her surrogate. She's strong, intelligent, disciplined, and lethal. An MMA champion. A combat instructor for a private military contractor. A woman who learned to fight before she ever learned to howl. When the magic of her witch mother begins to fade, and the werewolf King finally tracks them down, Sybil is summoned back to a kingdom that remembers her only as its missing heir. Betrayed by her hybrid fiancé, who abandoned her to marry the princess of their kingdom, Sybil made a decision that will shake three kingdoms. She returned. Not for love. Not for duty. For revenge... But the throne comes with chains. Instead of marrying one Alpha, she is bound to four-the Alpha Guardians of Lupenreich. Ruthless. Powerful. Pureblood. Feared across kingdoms. And fate claims they are her mates. There's only one problem. Sybil cannot feel her wolf, for it was caged deep within her soul. She cannot smell her mates. She is a Lycan princess trapped in a wolfless body. While her four Alphas believe they are claiming their future Luna and Queen, Sybil is already planning something far more dangerous. She will not stand beside a king. She will not be used to breed to secure bloodlines. And she certainly will not be ruled. If the kingdom wants a queen... They're about to kneel to a rebel queen. Because Sybil von Rosen is not an ordinary Luna. She is the last Lycan heir. The forbidden daughter of witches. The mate of four Alpha Guardians. And she intends to take the throne for herself and will bow to no one.

Dust motes danced in the sliver of sunlight cutting through the heavy velvet curtains of the pack archives. I sneezed, the sound echoing in the silence. As the Omega of the Silver Moon Pack, this was my domain—the dusty corners, the forgotten histories, the places no one else wanted to be. "Just another day, Zoey," I whispered to myself, reaching for a heavy, leather-bound tome on the top shelf. "Keep your head down, do your work." But today wasn't just another day. My hand slipped. The sharp metal clasp of the book sliced across my thumb. I hissed, pulling my hand back, expecting the familiar sting and the welling of crimson red. Instead, as I pressed my thumb against the parchment of an open scroll to stop the bleeding, a strange warmth bloomed in my chest. I pulled my hand away.

On the day my child turned one month old, my mate Robert Kim was declared dead after falling into a well. The pack waited for me to break down, to wail and mourn, but I remained silent and unmoved. Five years later, during a famine, Robert suddenly reappeared, his arm wrapped around Taylor Bennett, the Omega he had chosen over me. Seeing me struggle alone to raise our child, a flicker of guilt crossed his face. “It was actually my brother who died that day,” he confessed. “Taylor and Evan needed me. But since you’ve worked so hard these past years, I’ll take care of you. Though Taylor will remain my Luna.” I laughed bitterly. “You’re too late.” What Robert didn’t know was that in my past life, I had endured humiliation as his chosen mate, all for the sake of our child. But Taylor couldn’t bear the thought of my child calling Robert “Father,” so she convinced him to have us thrown into a mob of starving rogues.